House confronts Wilson after finding out something Wilson didn't want him to know. CONCLUSION CHAPTER 7 now posted. Occurs a few weeks after Detox. Rated T for some language. WilsonHouse friendship. Thank you all for your comments.

Summary:
House confronts Wilson after finding out something Wilson didn't
want him to know. Occurs a few weeks after "Detox".
House-Wilson friendship.

Rated:
T (some language)

Disclaimer:
I still don't own them

Chapter 1

Dr. Greg House sat
quietly at his desk listening to Pinball Wizard blaring
through the speakers of his Ipod, his desk lamp the lone source of
illumination in the office. As the music played, his mind was
absorbed with thoughts of his friend and colleague, Dr. James Wilson.
He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the back,
sighing quietly as he rehashed the issue over and over again, still
unable to come up with a plausible explanation.

For the past two days,
he and his staff had been involved with a new case…or patient…
whose diagnosis had so far eluded him and his underlings. He had
planned to spend the rest of the day researching possible
explanations for his patient's curious symptoms. But as the
afternoon faded into evening, House had found himself thinking only
of this, and in spite of himself, realized that his initial feelings
of doubt had morphed into anger. As he stared out the window
watching the rain batter the glass in steady droplets, his thoughts
were totally consumed with James Wilson.

At that moment, the
young doctor entered House's office carrying his overcoat across
his forearm and his briefcase at his side. He walked up to House's
desk, dropped his belongings onto a chair and sank down into the
other chair. The older doctor didn't acknowledge his presence.

"I totally forgot to
eat today," Wilson said as he picked up the oversized tennis ball
from House's desk and began tossing it back and forth between his
hands.

"And you're telling
me this, why? I'm not your Mommy. Eat a sandwich," House said,
his voice unwelcoming, his attention still on the raindrops bouncing
off the window.

Wilson caught the ball
and placed it back onto to the desk. "Okay. Why are you so
cranky?" he asked. "What happened?"

House turned to look at
his colleague as he reached over to turn off the music. "I'm
busy. If you're the smart, intuitive doctor you think you are,
you'll leave me to my thoughts." He turned away from Wilson.

"Is that a warning,
House?" He cocked his head. "Because that's unusual for you…
you generally just strike at will." House didn't reply. "Okay,
just tell me what it is… I'm a doctor, I can take it." He sat
there, his head at an angle scrutinizing House. Something was
obviously bothering him and the younger doctor wanted to help. Or
maybe not… he wasn't quite certain.

"Look, House, if you
want me to leave, I'll leave. But this little game you're
playing is starting to get on my nerves. What, are you five?"
Wilson leaned forward in his chair, waiting for House to reply. It
was a long day and he was tired. And now he was becoming angry.

House snickered and
turned to look at him. The corners of his mouth slanted up into a
smile, but his eyes narrowed menacingly. "I thought you liked
games," he said, rubbing his cheek with his hand.

Wilson shook his head
in confusion. "Look, House, I'm tired and I'm hungry. If you
have something to say, then …"

"I've been sitting
here all afternoon trying to figure what could possess you to do
something like that. I wondered…. could it be the challenge, sheer
curiosity, that dark side of you that nobody seems to know about ….
"

Wilson had had enough.
"House! What? What is it?" He stood up abruptly and leaned
over the desk, palms flat on the surface, his eyes glaring.

"My, my, aren't you
crabby when you're hungry. Want a lollipop?" House reached
across his desk to grab the candy that lay there, but was suddenly
interrupted by Wilson grasping his wrist.

House smirked and
yanked his hand away from the young doctor's grip. He leaned back
in his chair and looked up at him. "I know all about it, Dr.
Wilson. I know that it was you," he said, his voice unemotional.

"Okay. You know that
it was me," Wilson said slowly repeating House's words, furrowing
his brow as he attempted to discern what this was about. After a
few moments, he lifted his arms in the air and dropped them down to
his sides in exasperation. He looked at House, whose face was still
expressionless. Totally unsure what to make of this, Wilson crossed
his arms across his chest and looked questioningly at the scruffy
doctor sitting behind the desk.

House looked up at the
addled oncologist and smiled dauntingly. "It was you, Dr. Wilson,
who came up with the game plan." He leaned back in his chair and
waited for a response.

"What game plan,
House? Stop playing with me!" Wilson shouted.

"The bet," House
said, his voice controlled, demeanor casual, in fact almost appearing
to be amused.

Wilson stiffened. Thebet. House didn't have to elaborate… he knew what bet his
friend was referring to. Wilson had been afraid that this might
happen, that House would somehow find out. And he had no idea how he
would deal with that possibility if it did occur. But as the weeks
wore on, that fear slowly dissipated, too soon apparently, and he
found himself caught off guard. He uncrossed his arms and let them
drop to his sides, almost in defeat. "Okay. Well, uh…how did
you find …"

"What difference does
it make?" House cut him off, his voice now with an edge to it. "I
know." He leaned accusingly towards Wilson.

The young doctor stared
at House; noticing the stiffness of his jaw, the narrowed blue eyes
penetrating his own. There was no point in asking; the answer was
obvious. "And you're angry," he said, resignation clear in his
voice.

House grinned. "You
think?" He leaned back in his chair again, his piercing eyes
unnerving the younger doctor. Wilson knew he had to come clean;
obviously he had no choice, but in truth, he actually felt relieved.
When Dr. Cuddy had asked him what he was going to do, he had replied
that he would do nothing, that he had done enough damage. The guilt
had eaten at him for weeks, and now, due to this unforeseen
development, he actually had the opportunity to explain his actions
to House. He owed him that much anyway.

His eyes fell to the
floor as he rubbed the back of his neck, returning his attention to
House who stared icily at him. "Look, House, you must know that
Cuddy and I were concerned about you; we only had your best interest
at heart," he said, fully aware of how lame he sounded.

"Save it, Wilson",
House quipped. "Your motives are irrelevant. What pisses me off
is that you and Cuddy actually took the time to discuss me like some
kind of lab rat. So, tell me, do you two have weekly meetings where
you both decide what food I should be eating, what woman I should be
doing, what drugs I should or shouldn't be taking? You two get off
conspiring behind my back?"

The young doctor's
eyes narrowed. "There was no conspiring," he said, taking
offense to House's accusation.

"The hell there
wasn't," House shouted. "Get yourself a life, Wilson, and stay
the hell out of mine."

"You're twisting
this around into something it's not, "Wilson shouted back. He
took a deep breath to calm down. "Okay, okay. If I'm guilty of
anything it's that I didn't think this through. I was
concentrating on the end result and didn't anticipate the chain of
events… I apologize for that."

"Chain of events? By
'chain of events' are you by any chance referring, for example…
the fact that I broke my own fingers?"

Wilson said nothing,
avoiding House's stare.

"At a loss for words,
Dr. Wilson? Or do you just hate admitting you were wrong?"

"I apologize for my
methods but not for taking action; something had to be done,"
Wilson said, carefully choosing his words trying not to further
antagonize House. Apparently, he chose unwisely.

House banged his fist
loudly on the desk. "That's not your call, Doctor!" He
shouted, clearly enraged.

Wilson sighed. "I'm
your friend, House. I felt I had to do something. You need…needed
help."

House laughed bitterly.
"Help? That's what you call it? I don't need that kind of
help." He held up his hand. "I fucking broke my fingers! You
could've said something when I came to you."

"And if I had, what
would you have done?"

"That's not the
point, damn it! Why didn't you say something?"

Wilson shifted his eyes
up towards the ceiling, then turned his attention back to the older
doctor. He looked into House's eyes. "I did the best I could at
the time."

House smirked. "You
disappoint me, Dr. Wilson." He shook his head and turned away.

He knew House was
right. The entire idea of the bet was clearly a bad one, and he
regretted it everyday. Yet, he still felt that some good had come of
it. Or was he just placating himself? He wasn't sure. "But you
did learn something," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I guess I
did," House said. "I learned that I need to pick my friends more
carefully."

Wilson flinched. "I'm
your friend."

House glared at him.
"Sorry, Doc, but I'm finding that hard to buy at this moment."

Wilson sighed. "I
told you that I'm sorry. What can I do to make you believe that?"
he asked, his voice low.

"You're sorry,"
House repeated as if he were contemplating whether to believe the
veracity of those words.

"Well, duh. How
could I not? Admit it… you never would've said anything if I
hadn't found out."

Wilson nodded slightly,
his anger dissipating somewhat. House wasn't really wrong; he never
would've said anything if he hadn't been confronted. But he
still felt he had made the right call by keeping his mouth shut. He
was sure House would've continued with the bet anyway, and it
would've served no useful purpose if he had come forward. In fact,
considering the emotional and physical mess House was in that week,
it probably would've made matters worse.

"The bet was a bad
idea, I admit that. But you have to know that I'm your friend,"
Wilson said hesitantly. How could House think otherwise, he
thought. As furious as he may be, he still had to know that Wilson
was his friend and always would be.

House looked away from
Wilson.

"House, you can't
really think…."

House returned his gaze
to the younger doctor. "What I'm finding fucking difficult to
understand is why you'd keep this from me. I might buy that you
and Cuddy had good intentions…as misguided as they were… but why
hide behind Cuddy?"

"I wasn't hiding,"
Wilson said, his voice raised.

"You were hiding
behind Cuddy," House persisted.

"House, I tried more
than once to talk to you about this… about the pills. You blew me
off every time. I told you that I was worried about the effects they
were having on your health, but you never listened. I was desperate
to reach you, so I came up with this bet, stupid as it was. But it
had to come from Cuddy or you never would've agreed to it."

"So… in your
asinine logic, you were actually trying to teach me something. Or
were you really trying to learn something for yourself and you needed
me to be the scapegoat?"

Wilson shook his head,
squinting his eyes.

"No, I'm really
curious," House said, leaning back in his chair, his expression
inquisitive.

"I felt you couldn't
go on like you had been… with the pills," he said. "Like you
continue to do now. You know how I feel about that." The young
doctor looked out the window noticing how unusually dark the clouds
had become.

"Because you're my
friend."

Wilson's head snapped
back towards House. "Yes, because I'm your friend. Is that an
issue?"

"I'm not sure."

"House ….."

"You should've said
something." House swiveled his chair away from Wilson and
pretended to watch the rain.

Wilson lowered his eyes
to the floor. He had already apologized twice… what else could he
say? Obviously House was not in a forgiving mode; hopefully he just
needed some time. The young oncologist retrieved his coat and
briefcase from the chair, hesitating as if he were about to say
something, then thought better of it. He turned to leave, quickly
walking out of House's office.

House spun his chair
around and watched Wilson's shadow disappear around the corner. He
was still angry. Even though his so-called friend had apologized,
House felt that he had offered it reluctantly. And what bothered
him most was that Wilson had not apologized for keeping his
involvement a secret. If Wilson were truly the close friend he
claimed to be, he would've come to House and talked to him. But
even now when confronted, Wilson still hadn't apologized for that.

House reached over and
turned on his Ipod. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes
and lost himself in the music.

A/N: I just wanted to explain that I based
House's initial reaction to finding out about Wilson's
involvement in the bet on Cuddy's line at the end of "Detox"
where she says to Wilson, "Better hope he never finds out that it
was your idea." To which Wilson replies, "he'd never believe
it." To me, that exchange suggests that House would react badly.

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